The Thief of Virtue
by batbynight
Summary: A revamped version of the book titled "The Thief of Virtue", which you can find during gameplay. With a slight twist, of course.


_This is my revamped version of a book called "The Thief of Virtue" that you can find during gameplay in both Oblivion and Skyrim. Maybe Morrowind, too, but I tend not to play PC games. That being said, you don't have to have read the book to get this story. And if you want to anyway, I'm positive you can google it. I ended up googling it for reference, so there's no way in hell you can tell me it's not possible to._

_Also! This was my second attempt. And while the first attempt was better, ZenWriter decided not to save it for me. SO. Enjoy draft 2?_

* * *

His name was Ravius Terinus, and he was a thief. Some even said he was the best, though people said many things while he lived. And many of the things they said were contradictory and false.

For instance, the nords of the north claimed he was a true-born son of Skyrim. A fearsome warrior who wielded a deadly battle-axe by the name of _Nocturnal's Edge_. They said he was more likely to break the lock on a chest than to pick it free. On all counts were they wrong. Next were the wood elves, the bosmer, who claimed he was one of their own. An archer. A master of shadow and stealth. They claimed that even if he was standing before you would not see his face for he was as much a part of the shadows as one could be. And while the bosmer were closer than the nords in their beliefs, they, too, were mistaken. Cyrodiil claimed that this great thief was, in fact, a woman. An imperial. A master of speechcraft as well as stealth, with a beauty unmatched by any other. They fancied her to be the kind of woman that you were too busy looking at her lips to notice her hand cutting free your coinpurse. And while the Cyrodiilic tale is by-far the most fun, it was also far from the truth.

The truth was that Ravius was a man, and an attractive imperial at that, but he was not a battle-axe wielding warrior or a shadow-melting archer, nor did he need to abuse his charms to collect the gold and treasures he coveted (though he was to be a bit of a womanizer in his time, records show). Instead, Ravius was a beggar who eventually stole himself quite a fortune with the skills he'd honed on the streets. He also claimed to be Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild, but this is unlikely since the only known Thieves Guild was eradicated 450 years prior to this story ever having taken place.

Now, moving along with the story, there was a Baron living in Hammerfell around the same time that Ravius was visiting a friend, there. By all accounts the Baron was an arrogant, pompous sort of man known very well for his whoring and his drink. But alongside his shortcomings, he was also known for his splendid parties and his fine eye for fine things. It is said that the Baron collected many things from fine silks to jewel-encrusted swords to crowns fit for Kings whose empires had long fallen. Among his many collections was rumored to be a collection of fine coins, in all medals and mints, and even the Baron himself boasted that these coins could retire fifty men comfortably and still have some left for their sons to inherit.

It was these coins that Ravius had decided to target, one night, and it was on the night of the heist that this story truly began.

The Baron was due to throw a gala, and Ravius, with a couple of bribes and silver-tongued words, had acquired himself an invitation. He appeared at the gala in a grand garb of gold and white, under the false name of Raphael. He spent much of the night dancing and dining among the rich, though drinking little in order to keep his wits about him for the heist. And then, finally, it seemed his moment had come. He slipped out of the party and into the hall, finding his way up three flights of stairs and innumerous turns before he managed to find the room.

Thirteen pins kept the lock firm, but he got through easily by breaking only nine of his lockpicks. And the seven traps he was met with next he managed to disable with only a fork, a bit of string and a wineskin. Truly, Ravius was a master among thieves.

And once the display case was open and the coins secured in the velvet pouch at his waist, he turned to leave. Only a guard had found the door ajar. The guard called the alarm, but Ravius was quick and clever. He, though not planning to be caught, was always prepared. He drank down a bottle of invisibility potion and used the borrowed time to get as far from the guard as he could manage. And as he felt the potion begin to wear, he picked a three-pin lock to an eastern-facing room and entered.

But once the door was shut behind him, it quickly became apparent that he was not alone. Standing before him was the Baroness, wife to the man he had just robbed. Ravius had heard of her but never met her in person, but it was obvious to him that what the gossip had whispered to his ears had been true. She was plain, not pretty. And this bedroom of hers was most assuredly not one she shared with her Lord.

"My Lady," Ravius began, not unused to using honeyed words to get himself out of situations not unlike this one, "I noticed you at the gala earlier this evening and thought you a beautiful creature, so I came here to pay you my compliments. I might have done so when I saw you first, but, alas, I thought your husband might slap me in irons for less-than-noble intentions." He took a step forward, smiling the smile of a man well-learned in melting women's' hearts. However, it was that same smile that was the first to melt.

Her laughter was a melody the likes of which he had never heard. Sweet, soft. A romance all its own. And her voice... Surely her voice was that of Dibella speaking through her, for her voice could be nothing short of belonging to the Divines.

"At the gala?" the Baroness repeated in question, and the thief, too distracted by her words, could only nod. "You mean the gala I was not permitted to attend?"

These words, once processed, sobered him. Bu as his mind reached for some sort of explanation, some smooth way of talking his way out of this, there was a knocking at the door. BANG. BANG. BANG. He winced with each thundering sound, for there was no doubt in his mind that the one knocking was a guard seeking to find him.

The Baroness laughed again, a sparkle of amusement behind her dully-colored grey eyes. It was the glimmer that caught him, though he could hardly dwell on it with the guards so close at his heels. In an instant, he made a move for the window, hoping to get far enough that he might still have a chance to escape, but the Baroness reached out and caught his hand. He looked to her, helplessly, not opposed to striking a woman when his life was hanging in the balance. But something stopped him. Perhaps it was the expression she wore, one of placid calm and mischievousness. Or perhaps she whispered words to him that eased him. I could not say for sure.

What I can say is that he let her guide him into the dark of her dressing room, where she placed a finger to his lips. Hush, the gesture said. Hush and I will hide you, here. And then she closed the door and left him in the dark.

He pressed his ear to the dressing room door, listening to see if this Baroness that puzzled him so would betray him for keep him secret.

"M'Lady!" a guard's voice said. Low, gruff. As if his words needed to be run across gravel before it could reach anyone's ears. "My Lady, there's a thief in the manor. Have you seen a man go by? Dressed in gold, perhaps? Gold and white?"

"A thief? Ah, me!" the Baroness said in that enchanting voice of hers. Ravius wondered why the guard had not swooned by the sound of it. "I've seen no one tonight, good man! But what if he finds me here, alone? What if he seeks to steal my virtue as well as whatever else he hoped to take? Oh, my! Ah, me! A thief, are you certain?"

"Quite certain, m'Lady." the guard said tightly, "But, I... don't think you'll be needing to worry about him, uh, stealing your virtue. Let us know if you see anything. We're right out in the hall." He bid her goodnight before she could even reply. The door closed, firmly, and Ravius backed further into the dressing room before the light flooded inside and her figure was standing in the doorway.

"A thief, are you?" she asked, as if the idea exausperated her. As if she had been expecting better.

She moved away from the door, leaving the clear impression that Ravius was to follow her into the room. Which he did. The Baroness crossed to the vanity, where she sat and pulled her long yellow hair over her shoulder. Her hair did not shine like gold as other blondes' locks seemed to, but instead reminded one more of corn. And her skin, though fair, was pale in a way that reminded one of sickness. Her nose was a little strong, her lips a little small, both which made her appear hawk-like. No, she was far from a beauty, but she was not ugly, either. Plain was all. Boring. But not ugly.

"Dare I ask what it is you have stolen from my Lord Husband?" the Baroness asked, and Ravius stiffened under her gaze as she watched him through the mirror. She looked him up and down, which he was used to from women, but she was watching him in a different sort of way. She was less assessing his features and more searching. "Ah." she said finally, her gaze falling to the velvet purse on his belt, "I see."

Ravius swallowed, his own eyes falling to his feet. But when she rose form her seat and crossed the room to the open window, he felt helpless but to watch her go. And her walk, ah!, her walk. If Goddesses walked the land there was no doubt in Ravius' mind that she would be more graceful, still. The subtle turn of her hips, the straightness of her back, the soft curve of her shoulders-

"Well, thief?" she asked suddenly, turning to face him. "Have you words for yourself? I have harbored you from danger thus far, but the only words you spoke were those of the lie I caught you in. Have you nothing more to say?"

"None but that I stand by my saying you are beauteous, my Lady." Ravius said with earnest, but the Baroness shook her head, her eyes half-closing with the movement.

"Flattery." she murmured, "I thought I asked you to stop lying, thief."

"I have not lied this time around." Ravius said, taking a tentative step toward her, "You are a glorious creature. Perhaps the most beautiful I have ever laid eyes on."

"This flattery will earn you nothing, you know." the Baroness said flatly.

"You do not wish to hear of your beauty?" the thief asked, truly confused by this little fact for he knew that most women adored to be showed in compliments. His question have the Baroness pause, and she crossed her arms over the front of her closed robe. It occurred to Ravius that she might not be wearing anything under her robe and his body gave an unconscious shiver.

The Baroness sighed, then, seating herself on the edge of her bed, arms still crossed over her chest, she said, "I know I am not beautiful. Nor am I glorious."

"I beg to differ." Ravius said back, slowly making his way toward her. She watched him, but did not oppose him. She did not ask him to stand away or stop speaking. She simply watched him until he was standing a foot away from her knees. She glanced at the window, as if fearing he might, at any moment, make a run for it, but he made no effort to move. Not only did he very much doubt he would make it out in one piece, he also had a new target for a heist. He held out his hand for her to take. "Here. Let me look at you." he said.

He was surprised to find that she had entrusted him with her hand and was now standing in front of him, less than a foot away.

She was smaller than him, nearly half a head shorter. And her hands felt like a child's in his, though he knew from people's whispers that they were the same age.

He traced a finger down her cheek. "You are glorious." he said, "More fit to be an Empress than a homely Baroness."

"Ah, but homely I am. And glorious I am not." the Baroness whispered faintly in that bell-like voice of hers.

"You are mistaken." the thief assured her.

The Baroness gently pushed his hand from her face and side-stepped away from him, standing before the vanity and staring into it pensively. As if she had a life-or-death decision to make.

"If you want an escape, take it. I will not call my guard once you are gone." the Baroness said quietly, hoarsely, as if she were close to tears. "But do not cut me deeper."

"I have offended you." Ravius stated calmly. He had no intention of leaving. He had decided what his real reward, his true stolen treasure, was to be, though only if she would have him.

"You have not offended." the Baroness said, "Quite the contrary. But I can take no more of this game you'd have me play."

"Game, my Lady?" the thief asked and the Baroness whipped her head to the side to look at him. Her eyes were narrowed, her glare fierce enough that Ravius nearly stumbled while standing still.

"I am not a fool, thief. I am a woman, but not a fool. Is your intention not to rob me of my virtue and then flee into the wee hours of the morning, taking my Lord Husband's precious coins with you when you go?" she demanded. Her words were sharper than even her eyes.

"It is not." Ravius answered soberly. And just after he said this, to prove his point, he pulled the velvet purse from his belt and flung it on to the bed with a swift hand. "Yours. Do with them as you will. Keep them for yourself or return them to your Lord, if you like. It matters not. I am after a prize tonight." The Baroness' face flickered with doubt, dancing between the coins on the bed and Ravius' own face. She crossed the room and picked up the coinpurse, opening it to see if it was truly her husband's collection that the thief was offering her. Seeing it was, she opened the drawer of her vanity dresser and slid the coins inside.

"What is it that you want, exactly, thief?" the Baroness asked, but along with the suspicion was a softness that had not been there before.

"You, my Lady, can call be Ravius." he said, and the Baroness' lips curved into a wry smile.

"Can I? How interesting." she said, "Then you may call me Cynthia."

"Cynthia?" the thief repeated, "Is your name not Veronique?"

"Veronique is a borrowed name, given to me when I was purchased as the Baron's bride." she said calmly, as if this were not some horrifying detail behind her marriage but a simply fact of life. She was purchased like cattle. Property. Ravius felt all the sicker for it. And yet there was a joy, there, too, for she had entrusted him with her name. Something about it seemed more intimate than it should of. As if he was reading too much into it. But, at the same time, as they gazed at each other unsure of what to do next, Ravius felt it was a gift she had never given before.

It was a victory in his favor.

"You asked me what I wanted." Ravius said, suddenly, "But I think you know the answer to the question you asked."

"Do I?" the Baroness-Cynthia-asked. And Ravius nodded slyly.

"I think you do."

He was in front of her, the two of them standing still and straight before her vanity, in a short moment.

"Lend me your glory for a night, woman." he said, and she laughed. And it was a melody that he decided he had for too long lived without.

"Glory." she repeated, "I fear it is gone from me, sir. I have none but my shame."

"Nay. Nay, I see glory in you yet." he whispered against the nape of her neck. He smiled against her skin when she shivered, placing a hand on either side of her waist. Gently, he pulled her forward. Urging her to take that final step herself. And she did, closing the space between them with a delicious sort of hesitation. Still, she did not melt into him as most women would. She had not given in fully. She might very well not at all.

"You see ghosts." she said quietly.

"I see you." he replied just as softly. He gave her a meaningful look and after staring her down, she broke their gaze, smiling tentatively.

"Why do you flatter me so?" she asked, "To woo me? You've succeeded in that. You need not bother."

He frowned, "My lady, you wound me. You see?" He took one of her hands and placed it over his heart. "I am wounded."

"Oh, my. Shall I call for the guard, then? For they are better suited to treat such a life-threatening injury than clumsy little me." the Baroness said, and he loved the tone she used. He loved that she was playing along.

"Ah, but there is, perhaps, something you can do to cure me of my ailment, I think." he said softly, and he caught her eye. She held his gaze, though both were misted by visions of what was to come on this night.

"Is there? Do tell, my thief."

"_Your _thief." he repeated, too distracted to continue their games, "Yes. Your thief. For as long as I live, I am your thief. Your man. Without reservation." he said, "This I swear."

"Less careful oaths have never been taken." the Baroness said sadly.

"What do you mean, my Lady?"

"In the morning you will be gone. And we will never meet again, I fear." she said, "But let us not think on it, now." She leaned forward to kiss him, and he kissed her back, and there was some skill behind both of their lips making this kiss one to be yearned for by girls and men alike. When they broke off, the thief sighed, leaning his forehead down against her with half-lidded eyes.

"I am your man." he repeated. "I swear it. And I swear this will not be the last time I take you to bed with me."

And with that he guided her to bed.

I am sure you can finish this evening shared between them on your own, and I will not write it out. Instead, I will write out that Ravius and the Baroness would be lovers for many years to come, though details differ. Some say they ran off together and married. Some say the Baroness birthed an heir for her husband but that the son had a pair of eyes more similar to Ravius'. No matter the case, by all accounts they were lovers 'till they were met with the Gods in Aetherius.


End file.
